Complicated
by Toulouse Lautrec
Summary: I don't usually do this, but here it is. Christian/Duke slash. The love triangle goes on a picnic. Delusions are convincing.


**Complicated**

(yes, it's Christian/Duke slash. Just go with it, I was bored)

_Why'd you have to go and make things so complicated?_

_I see the way you're acting like you're somebody else gets me frustrated_

_Life's like this you_

_You fall and you crawl and you break and you take what you get and you turn it into_

_Honestly you promised me I'm never going to find you fake it…_

It was one of those beautiful autumn days that even non-Bohemian revolutionaries could write poetry about. The countryside was tinted with a warm yellow-orange glow. The only things that moved were the small beige moths that flitted from one yellowed blade of grass to another.

Of course one can never enjoy such beauty when they have the Duke as an object of comparison. Everything seemed to dim in his radiance. Only those things which he touched were of any value to me. 

I entertained his denial. He wanted to believe that he could still love Satine, but once he stepped back into the elephant room to find her in my arms, I knew he could never go back to loving her.

After that little incident, I noticed his increased interest in my dealings at the Moulin Rouge. He complained that I spent too much time with Satine, but I couldn't leave her to wreak havoc on my script. She may have been "the Sparkling Diamond", but she had no memory for lyrics or tunes. The only way to get her to remember anything was to spend days upon days pounding the things into her head. Even then, she kept inserting little bits of her previously memorized songs into my songs. As if former patrons of the Moulin Rouge would not notice the repetition of her seductive songs!

Anyhow, I could see that the Duke was becoming more and more jealous of my time with the overpriced prostitute. That is why I agreed to go on this picnic with him. That damned little bitch Satine would not let us be, however. Somehow she managed to twist our words in such a way that it appeared that we had INVITED her.

Like we would ever do that.

Tossing hard glares at her, we set up our picnic as she rested on the grass. I had the sudden urge to throw the checkered picnic blanket over her head and smother her with it. She could at least HELP, couldn't she? I've seen better women do more in a day than she does in a month. Oh sure, she wears those little gowns and sings almost constantly, but does that really count for anything in the long run? I don't think so.

The Duke watched me with longing eyes as we ate. Satine would not shut her stupid little mouth. Her voice was hoarse as a result of straining it too much during rehearsals—for some reason she felt that if she sang louder, it would sound better—and she kept diving in and out of conversation as we chewed silently and nodded in agreement every once in a while.

After our meal, she sprawled out on the blanket and fell asleep with the sunlight playing across her face. The Duke and I decided to take a walk so we could be alone. For a few minutes, the only noise was the crunching of our feet upon some dried leaves. The air was crisp and fresh, every sound magnified a million times until it was a cacophony of snapping branches, mud slurping at our shoes. When I felt we were far enough away from the singing horror that was Satine, I placed my hand on his shoulder. He whirled in surprise, his eyebrows arched, his moustache twitching in that seductive manner that it tended to take when he was struggling with his emotions. Before he could say anything, my lips were upon his, pressing at his confusion, forcing it back down his throat and into oblivion. His eyes were wide with surprise, but I could tell that he did enjoy this first kiss.

I finally pried myself away from his shocked form and watched in bemusement as he stood frozen in shock. When he regained his composure, his face launched into a ballet of emotions, "Wha… why… hoo… but… Satine… and… the… thing…spend… I don't… don't you… I mean…What was THAT all about?!"

I frowned. Obviously he didn't get the message yet, or was still in denial. Surely he was still clinging to the hope that he was just a normal man. But he wasn't, in my eyes.

_(A/N song used is Complicated by Avril Lavigne)_


End file.
